


In spirit of hesitation

by Moons_Mate



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Please give criticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 17:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moons_Mate/pseuds/Moons_Mate
Summary: Hanzo was raised in a manner of steadfastness and surety. Until he has to make choices that make him pause, hesitate.





	In spirit of hesitation

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I hope you enjoy this, please not this was written on my phone and without a beta, any mistakes are mine and mine alone. Forgive the formatting as well /bows

Hanzo was not the type of person to hesitate once he made up his mind.

In fact, he trusted his instincts and his mental fortitude to know the best outcome of each and every situation thrown at him, especially when it came to what would help the clan prosper.

He was trained this way.

The kumicho should always be quick and steadfast in his decisions, else he will fall.

Hesitation was the difference between landing the killing blow and dying a pitiful death.

But under the new moon in Hanamura, hesitation bled through his mind very swiftly for the first time since he matured and began to walk the first paths of becoming kumicho.

And it crippled him.

" _Please_...brother, I don't- you don't have to do this. We could leave this life, together."

Genji pleaded desperately, eyes wide and bright with horror and fear as clear tears traversed the flesh of his cheeks that were once only marred with faint freckles and more recently, dark circles from too many late nights out drinking.

His skin was pale and covered in bleeding cuts that turned his tears pink in their descent.

Hanzos hands were slicked with sweat, gripped too tight around his weapon. His shoulders ached not with exertion but with the weight of what he was doing to his only brother, his only family member that treated him like a human and not an automaton.

And it made him hesitate.

With a snarl, Hanzo gripped the remnants of Genji's torn shirt and shook him wildly.

" _Why_...why couldn't you obey the elders, be more obedient?!" Hanzos voice shook with emotion and his vision blurred as he looked away from his brother.

Genji stared up at Hanzo refusing to remove his gaze.

"Because brother, I grew up watching you suffer in a way no human should. It is not too late, _Hanzo_."

  
But Hanzo could not hear those words, could not let the illness in his mind fester.

So he stopped hesitating and made a decision.

  
\---

The sound of electronic music was deafening, pulsating so deeply with bass that Hanzo could feel the vibrations in his toes. The air of the nightclub was saturated with a mixture of fruity fragrances of perfumes and the musky scents of cologne all packaged with sweat and alcohol.

It was absolutely revolting but this place was one of the few places that Hanzo felt was...appropriate to be in on this day.

A glass of scotch stood before him on the brightly lit neon bar but Hanzo could not bring himself to drink. Condensation gathered on the sides until water dripped onto the surface. A loud woman with heels too high slipped behind him, almost pouring her drink on him and she slurred out a half apology as he partner dragged her away.

This is where Genji used to thrive. Clubs and bars. Scenes with loud music, strong drinks, and horny people.

Nothing Hanzo enjoyed in his sad excuse of a youth.

Hanzo looked at his hands in the pulsating lights.

  
_Blue_ , he could see old burn marks that were scattered near the tips of his fingers.

_Red_ , newer scars, left by struggling targets that tried clawing away to freedom. Freedom he did not give them.

_Green_ , on his left hand, he could see his birthmark, right in the junction of his pointer and thumb. Shaped like a flower petal. Identical to the one Genji had on his right.

  
Hanzo clenched his fist and closed his eyes, faintly aware of the approach of a person.

The person slid into the seat right of Hanzo and waved the bartender over.

"Hey there, I'd like what my friend over here is having if ya don't mind."

The stranger wasn't shouting but his voice full of timber and a thick western accent carried well over the loud music.

Hanzo frowned as he glanced to the new man. He was taller than him and dressed in a manner that Hanzo would expect out of a spaghetti western, complete with a cowboy hat and rugged facial hair. The stranger's dark eyes were steady and calm and his cheeks dimpled when he gave Hanzo an easy smile.

"Howdy, names Jesse Mcree," he began. Hanzo stared at him warily, refusing to dignify this stranger with a response.

"An' your name, is Hanzo Shimada." at this, Hanzo tensed slightly and narrowed his eyes.

"What business do you seek with me." He barked out, swiftly and sharp, a glare darkening his face like a storm.

McCree smiled again and took the glass the bartender handed to him.

He knocked the golden liquid back in one go and wiped away a drop that clung to his lips. Hanzo stared at the action before raising an eyebrow at the taller man.

McCree's smile tightened.

"I've heard that you my friend, are in need of redemption. Now I'm only going to offer you, I ain't gonna force ya. If you feel like you want to change something for yourself, call me." The cowboy slipped a thin card into the breast pocket of hanzos black shirt.

_What_?

Hanzo's eyebrow twitched and a swell of outrage brewed in his stomach before launching out of his mouth without permission.

"Who do you _think_ you are? There are things I've done that would turn your stomach. There is no redemption for me, not anymore. Especially not from the likes of _you_." he spat out venomously, tempted to take the card out and shove it into the cowboy's face but he simply stood up swiftly and walked away from the bar with a sneer.

"Call me sugar, this offer won't last long. I'm only in town for a week!"

The cowboy shouted after him. but Hanzo ignored him, stepping outside into the cold night.

  
Hanzo was infuriated.

Unable to peacefully mourn the death of his brother on its anniversary irritated him beyond belief.

He would not let this rest.

  
\---

A week later found him crouched over the card that was given to him, a glass of wine mostly done and a pounding headache that punished with every heartbeat.

Hanzo had spent the entire week investigating the source of Jesse McCree, where he came from and who he was associated with. He did not manage to find much information on the man, even though his connections.

He was an ex-mercenary who was tied with many criminal groups in his youth but now was working with overwatch.

Overwatch...an organization that legally shouldn't exist yet he often heard tale of them underground, still working operations. He had no real opinion of them but only a fool would think they weren't doing good to the world.

Which brought Hanzo to his predicament.

He was doing small jobs, hits and short contracts for people and organizations that wanted people dealt with. That was something Hanzo was good at inherently.

Dealing with people.

But the idea of redemption, after committing crimes that he can never forgive himself of, why shouldn't he join and give his worthless existant meaning?

What has he to lose?

He has nothing else.

When he picks up his phone to call, he hesitates.

What is he doing?

Hanzo blows out a heavy breath, tearing his fingers through his messy, loose hair.

He _shouldn't_.

He can't.

  
But his hands, shaking and covered in scars and callouses betray his weak heart and pick up the phone.

His throat is dry and his breathing is labored.

He stares at the dial for almost 15 minutes before he glances at the clock.

11 pm.

His time is almost up.

So finally after a week of hesitation, he calls.

The rining gnaws on his shot nerves and he complains beneath his breath.

  
A part of him hopes McCree doesn't pick up, hopes that this was a ruse or an elaborate trap. Maybe he could relieve some tension with hunt.

Before he hangs up and begins manhunt, the line opens and a smooth and warm voice picks up.

" _Howdy_."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, whether you did or not, please leave a comment and I am accepting criticism. I am trying to grow as a writer and would appreciate anything to help me improve! 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you so much for reading.


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